Friday Free For All - Too Smart for My Own Good

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Sometimes . . .

I just want to scream.

I had this great idea about Hip-Hop and Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs that I hoped to write about today, but I think that's a subject for another time. I'm still confused and reeling about the whole PD thing and I'm still trying to make sense of the mess that is my life. I want to understand why I feel the way I feel so that maybe I can begin to feel better, or at least differently. At the best of times I am still very lonely, and at the worst - completely and utterly lost in the world. I've been looking to psychology for the answers but I feel like I get nothing but contradictions. The science of the mind is not a precise one and yet it seems that the Bible of the field is used to both define and negate each individual affliction. We are told that the DSM VI is "just a guide" while it feels like we are pigeonholed into this or that disorder found within.

When I did not have health insurance I chose to act as though there was nothing wrong with my brain. My problems became "that thing I don't have". What else could I do? The cost of acknowledging the problem was staggering. After several months of therapy and medicinal compliance, I've come back to that way of thinking - sort of. It is a fact that I think, feel, and act differently from the accepted norm. At times this difference is more noticeable than at others, but it is always there. I move from tableaux to tableaux, all like a game in a child's coloring book. "Find which one is different" is the unspoken instruction, and in each scene, I am the one to be found and circled. I am not the same, of that I am certain. What I am not sure of is whether or not I am, in fact, broken. Following that train of thought has done nothing but cause me more grief, as my broken-ness seems to be the kind that is managed rather than repaired.

What if there were another explanation? What if there was nothing wrong with me in the first place; what if I am exactly as I should be? What if this oppressive difference I feel so often were a sign, not of something wrong, but of something simply out of place, like fine caviar on the menu at a Waffle House. There's nothing wrong with the caviar, but it certainly doesn't belong on the menu next to the hashbrowns and toast, now does it?

I am the caviar and I have been living in a Waffle House world.

I spent quite a long time today looking for my psychological paperwork from 2008 because it includes my IQ score. For whatever reason, I am rather certain that my IQ is 127. Not altogether impressive, but above average - to be sure. There's some evidence that people who are of a higher intelligence experience feelings of isolation, depression, perfection, and underachievement. Sounds a lot like all those psychological issues i have, don't it? While I might not be in the "gifted" range (That would require a 130), most people I come into contact with are keenly aware of my intellect. It's often commented on. I'm not trying to sound smug and "OMG I am so smart!". Most of the time, I don't feel that smart at all. I am highly deferential with regard to any talent I have for fear of looking like an asshole. Humility is supposed to be a good thing, right? (Of course, I take it to an extreme wherein I never feel pride in the things I do and while I crave praise and gold stars, when I get receive it I'm very "Aw shucks" about it. I probably need to work on this, but that's another matter for another time.)

What's my point here? That perhaps it would be beneficial to reframe my situation. I am smart. I am good at a lot of things. I have a very high vocabulary. I think outside of the box. I am a generally good person. I like rules and order, but I am very disorganized. I am easily overwhelmed. I deal with a lot of anxiety. I am compassionate. I am a good friend. If I take away all the suffering and the labels I am human, right? A smart and funny human. Maybe I am too smart for my own good, but that's a far easier psychological burden to bear than facing a myriad of disorders and conditions that can be controlled, but never cured. Whether my specific brain chemistry and neurological intricacies are working for or against me at any given time is really inconsequential and whether I was born this way, or "made [this way] through years of systematic abuse", I am what I am, and I think I have a choice at this point about how to proceed, for the sake of my sanity.

Am I going to stop taking my meds and going to therapy? No. It's helping. Am I going to stop researching the things that I am told are psychologically wrong with me? No. Knowledge is power, and if knowing something like "list making is detrimental" helps me to make some progress in my everyday life, I see no problem with that. Am I going to stop it with the humility act? Yes. I'm going to try at least. It sucks to be the only sober person in a room. It sucks even more to be the smartest person in the room, but neither are anything to be ashamed of. The best thing I could do for myself is to seek out like minded people. I am stagnating intellectually and I think that, more than anything else is the key to my personal misery. It's never good to spend too much time in your head, but it's just as damaging to be continually shut down by people who don't understand you at all. It's really not their fault, or mine, but it still cuts from the inside out.

Email correspondence to old friends. Reading. Writing. Dancing. Singing. Sweating. Coffee dates with my Deep friends. These things are integral to my mental health. Goals, guilt, shame, "should"s, to-do lists, and labels on the other hand have got to go. My mother was always fond of saying "There's a thin line between a genius and a madman." This always stung. It was usually uttered when someone who was conventionally seen as very smart did something my mother considered very stupid. It was harsh and judgy. It was uttered as a warning that I too could fall from grace. Now, here I am at the foot of the pedestal on which I was once displayed and looking up to where I once sat, the bottom and the top aren't really all that different. The fall was scary, and while I may have shattered upon impact, I'm finding that the pieces of me may have been designed to come undone.

"I Love Things!" Thursdays - The One With Current Relevance

You will notice the relative simplicity of this list compared to previous ones. I am proud of this. I call it improvement. It's called recovery, people. Now, without further ado I give you:

1. Alanis Morrisette - The Couch

Why? Because it sort of sums up my feelings about therapy today. "I pay him $75 an hour. Sometimes it feels highway robbery and sometimes it's peanuts - I wish it could last a couple more hours." For real.

2. Mucinex DM Maximum Strength

Take that, mucus minions. Source.

It's a love born of necessity. I am so miserable with this sinus issue. My face hurts from all the congestion. I continue to be amazed by the amount of mucus that comes out of my head. It's kind of scary. I will be so very happy when I figure out what's going on to cause thus situation. Until then, my friend Mucinex DM Max is giving me some relief.

3. Blue Tylenol

I talk about this stuff like some people talk about crack. Source.

I discovered this stuff some time in 2004 and it has been my go to cold remedy ever since. I lovingly call it "blue stuff". Sadly, I've been a little wary of it after learning that my liver isn't working at optimal levels. I try not to take any sort of drugs nowadays unless it's needed, and I really don't like mixing things. Thankfully, I learned today that if I'm truly miserable I can take the blue stuff with the Mucinex. Better than Christmas, I tell you. Granted, I haven't taken any blue stuff yet, but it's nice to know that it probably won't do much damage if I do.

4. This Bromance 

Best Supporting Cast Member: Mark Ruffalo's Chest Hair. Source.

Oh, Avengers. I came to you only to see the wonder that is RDJ's Tony Stark. I was pretty much uninterested in any of the other characters - even The Hulk. Especially The Hulk. But then Black Widow schleps all the way to India to find him, and he turns out to be Mark Ruffalo - who was strangely not on my celeb radar until that moment. And then he develops this weird, science bromance with Tony Stark. It's adorable. I am in love. And then: The Chest Hair. Sealed the deal. Totally in love.

5. Ray Donovan

This, dear friends, is what we call "Serendipitous". Source.

I read about this show today while I was waiting for my appointment, and I was thrilled. I love Liev Schrieber So. Fucking. Much. He is BEAUTIFUL. He played Orson Welles. Did you see The Manchurian Candidate? Wolverine? And now he's going to be in a series? Yes. Yes. Yes. Regular doses of those intense eyes and that incredible jawline will cure what ails you. And he's playing a "Cochran-esque" Hollywood lawyer. This is what happens when worlds collide. Law drama meets celebrity culture meets Liev Schrieber. It's like someone went to Showtime and said "Can you make a show with all of Joyce's favorite things?". I can't wait. I know what I'll be watching when Hannibal's season ends. Thank God for the internet.

Wednesday Reflections #14 - To List or Not to List? That is the Question . . .

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but I go to therapy on Thursday afternoons. This is part of the reason why I picked Wednesdays for weekly recaps (aside from my penchant for alliteration). Thursday is as good a place to begin, as any. During my session, I was informed that my previous diagnosis of "bipolar disorder" may have been a misdiagnosis. My therapist thinks that instead, I may have a "personality disorder". This was news to me. I don't know where my official diagnosis paperwork is at the moment, but I don't recall the words "personality disorder" (henceforth: PD) having entered into it.

To begin with, I assumed that PD and Borderline were part and partial to one another. I began researching that angle and it turns out that Borderlines are your Fatal Attraction Glenn Close types. Cray-Zee. I was unthrilled. But then I fell down the rabbit hole otherwise known as Wikipedia and found that there are about 15 types of PDs and that I might just be of the Obsessive Compulsive variety (not to be confused with OCD, which is very different). While I still don't like the idea of having a PD, I have found this new information to be very helpful. It's given me some insight into why I do the things I do, and that knowledge has proven very powerful to me over the past few days.

Yeah, not so much. Source.

Apparently OCPDs are very fond of making lists. This was the first thing in the description that struck me. I have be obsessively making lists since at least the sixth grade - maybe longer. It began innocently enough: "Things to Do When You're Feeling Blue" (another aside: What does it say about 6th Grade Joyce that she was making such a list in the first place?) and "Summer Plans". But then, somewhere along the way "goals" were introduced and I began making grand lists of goals - weight loss goals, academic goals, financial goals, personal goals, moral, ethical, and spiritual goals. And I never met any of those goals. Not one. Or, if I did, it was inadvertently, long after I had given up hope for any success at all. Earlier this year I came to the conclusion that setting a goal automatically doomed said goal to failure. Formally declaring the thing proved to be it's very undoing, and I couldn't figure out why. Could it be that the planning became more consuming than the execution? Perhaps . . .

There's a lot more to this thing and I won't drone on about it, but suffice it to say that I had a rather successful and stress free day of cleaning, organizing, and purging on Tuesday. I will probably discuss this further in another post. The most important thing to note is that I am going to do my level best to keep my list making relegated to the "Things I Love" variety and not the "I'm Gonna Do This" variety.

About the rest of the week:

Friday was the beginning of j^C's four day weekend. He played video games and I watched the latest episode of Hannibal. While it was not as awesome as the previous one, this series has me totally in thrall. I otherwise spent a lot of time reading about PDs on the internet and waiting for the crimson tide to arrive; and arrive it did, just as I was contemplating marital relations. Perfect timing. On the bright side, other than feeling very achy, I did not suffer any  menses related ailments. I was sort of emotional on Thursday, but that probably had to do with everything that happened in therapy. Sorry for being cryptic. Again, more to come on that matter in a later post.

In thrall, or in lust? Six of one . . . Source.

Saturday and Sunday found both me and That Sprout feeling under the weather. I have been working very hard in the house for the past couple of weeks, and I've inhaled a lot of dust. As a result, I've been battling a sinus infection off and on for just as long. That Sprout, on the other hand, is getting her last set of molars, so she's clingy and cranky and generally not herself. Our biggest family outing this weekend was our trip to the soft-play at the mall after lunch at Papa's Pizza. Other than that, there was lots of snuggling and hanging out at the house. I spent a lot of time in my head, trying to make some sense of my life.

When I was still living at home, I used to wish that I was crazy - certifiable -and that one day I would crack and they would find me catatonic, rocking back and forth in a corner. This being a wholly unacceptable state of affairs would result in my being sent away - locked up like Zelda Fitzgerald herself. It would be a great escape. Now, I've been sent away. It's not so glamorous and it costs more than it's worth. I am crazy. Got papers and everything. And I'm tired of it. I just want to be okay. I feel stupid for ever having wished such a fate for myself. But I also wonder if I wasn't always close to cracking anyway. Even if I had, I doubt it would have resulted in the escape I so desired. After all, mental illness is nothing more than a moral failing. A sign that one is not spiritually well . . . So I've been told.

That thought, and the thought that I should get rid of my ratty old t-shirts, even though I don't really want to, reduced me to tears in the shower at some point over the weekend, but it was a brief episode that quickly dissolved into an unusually mild period related malaise. This has become rambling, hasn't it?

And still I wonder why no one reads the blog. Source.

Sunday I watched all of Arrested Development Season 4. It was good, but I would like to watch the whole series over from the beginning. On Monday, I watched the BBC miniseries of Daniel Deronda. I should like to read the book now. We also went to dinner at Molly MacPherson's. It was nice, and That Sprout was really good for most of it. After she went to bed, j^C spoke to his cousin and her husband on Skype. This is only interesting as I learned that I might be able to finish my Teacher Ready Field Exercises over the summer. j^C's aunt teaches in a year round school. I will be looking into this possibility over the weekend.

Tuesday began with me feeling very aimless. I wanted to write. I wanted to work on school assignments. I did blog, but that was all I achieved before lunch. The afternoon was fruitful though. I am proud to say that I worked hard and purged a fair amount of clothes and toys. I did laundry. I organized Trilby's room. I made some sense of my domestic chaos. Of this, I am proud.  I had hoped to continue the trend today, but That Sprout had other plans.

She woke up screaming at 3 am. I had already been having trouble sleeping, and when she crawled into bed with us, it was simply not going to happen. I tried to take solace in the living room but the clingy little Sprout followed me. She was wide awake by this point, so I decided to introduce her to Svengali. She sat through the whole thing. Probably because she was tired, but nonetheless, I was proud. After that, we started watching The Twilight Zone, at which point she fell asleep. Although the sun had already begun to rise, I decided to crawl back in bed and try to sleep. I am not sure if I ever really achieved that goal, and at 7 am That Sprout was once again wide awake.

At this point, I thought I would take her to school, I would nap until noon, and then I would continue my housecleaning frenzy. But she refused to go to school. So we went and had donuts. And she still refused to go to school. So we went to the beach. Despite copious use of sunscreen, I wound up rather sunburned. I don't mind though. That Sprout had fun playing in the sand and running as deep as she dared into the water. Sometimes I think she's utterly fearless - then she's screaming in the middle of the night. That might have something to do with her interest in dinosaurs and dragons and my lack of judgement regarding some of her media exposure. (Godzilla's not that bad, right?)

So . . . maybe it was a bit much for a 2 year old. Source.

It was a long, but fun day. While I'm none too keen on keeping her out of school when we pay so much for it, I don't mind these extemporaneous little excursions. I think she needs it. I worry that she's feeling insecure, what with the night time issues and the clingyness. I was asking her what sounds different things made today, and when I asked her what sound a Mommy makes, she said "crying". Yikes. She also tells me quite often not to yell. I don't think I'm yelling, but apparently she doesn't like my tone regardless. As much as I resent it sometimes, I have got to get some stability in my life. I cannot perpetuate the cycle of insanity.

So, yeah. Tomorrow I will no doubt hear more about PD. I hope to compile some talking points between now and then, but at the moment I just want to fall asleep to The Twilight Zone. 

No One Likes it When They Find Their Idols Broken

So, I'm thinking T&A Tuesday, while a sort of cute name and a cute idea, ought not be a regular feature. It's kind of demeaning, don't you think? Maybe I'll bring it back once in a while, but weekly gratuitous sex is a little much. Also, there's too many cute themed names going on around here and the content feels a little stale to me. So, I'm going to try to get back to my previous state of writing about what's on my mind at any given time.

These tits serve to illustrate a point. Source.

Right now, I am very disappointed. Last night I decided to do some reading on the Rinzai Tradition of Zen Buddhism. I was curious if Kyozan Joshu Sasaki Roshi, Leonard Cohen's Zen teacher, was still alive. He is, and he's apparently been sexually harassing his female students for the past forty years or so. What's more, it's not like it was some kind of big secret. It was rather well known in the Zen community, and much like the things that went on in the Catholic Church, nothing was really done about it. To their credit, I think that the people in the Zen community did try to solve the problem. They got the old man a mail order wife from Japan (there are so many issues with that, but it was an attempt), and they tried to put things in place where he couldn't harass anymore women. Sadly, it seems that their prime operative was to save face and avoid any bad press for the faith, so they let Joshu Roshi continue to teach, kind of like the priests who were never punished for their sexual misconduct.

Looks rather unassuming, doesn't he? Source.

All of this has left me sad, disappointed, and disillusioned. I came to Zen because of Leonard Cohen. Not the best path to enlightenment, but it is what it is. I always thought that Mr. Cohen was a great guy, and if this Joshu guy taught him, then he must be okay too. Today, those assumptions lay shattered on the living room floor. If Joshu's misconduct was so well known in the Zen community then Leonard knew. How could he not? He was Joshu's personal assistant for five years at the Mount Baldy Zen Center. If this has been going on since the 60s Cohen's "Everybody Knows" takes on a whole new meaning, now doesn't it? Especially the line "you've been discreet, but there were so many people you just had to meet without your clothes, and everybody knows." Sure, maybe it's about and unfaithful woman, but now I'm not so sure.

From Cohen's time at Mount Baldy. Source.

I am sure of this: If Mr. Cohen was aware of Joshu's actions and chose to follow him on a spiritual journey anyway, that's really unfortunate. It makes me wonder about the sincerity and motivations of all of the people involved. I came across an article this morning by Brad Warner, another well known Zen practitioner that basically said we shouldn't be so quick to "lynch" Joshu over this matter. Beg pardon? I don't feel that outing his deplorable actions while in a place of power is a lynching. It's getting justice for the women he victimized. Mr. Warner's article cited a quote from one of these women that said "I 'suffered Roshi's abuse' - and it was the closest I ever got to god". That's not okay. That's what we call "Stockholm Syndrome". That's what it looks like when someone in a place of power takes advantage of someone who is emotionally (or perhaps spiritually?) vulnerable. If the accusations are true, Joshu's actions were manipulative, opportunistic, and maybe even predatory. As bad as all that is though, what's worse is that EVERBODY KNOWS and no one - not even my man Mr. Cohen - did anything to stop it.

Why is it that every artist or writer who reminds me of my father is,
in essence, little more than a dirty old man? Source.

If the price of enlightenment is silently turning a blind eye - is anyone really enlightened after all?

"I Love Things!" Thursday - The One With Feminism

Since I am unusually at peace I am feeling unusually feminine and feminist. I think this is a good thing, and today's list of love reflects that.

1. Allie Brosh

My love for this image is without end. Forever and ever, Amen. Source.

I cannot fully express just how happy I am that Allie posted on Hyperbole and a Half. The ILTT  for last week was going to be all about her, but alas, I never got around to writing it. So, I'm highlighting it again now. If you haven't read Hyperbole and a Half, then just go. Now. Educate yer'self. I'll wait. See? Awesome, yes? Not only is this chick the more artistically talented, funnier version of me, she's also super brave, what with being so honest about her personal struggles and all. I love that. I love her writing, her pictures, her sense of humor, her ability to laugh at herself. But most of all, I love that she's putting herself out into the world. By sharing her story, she's helping so many people. People like me. When I read her new entry last Thursday it was exactly what I needed to hear. I'm not a freak. I'm not alone. My fish are dead. It sucks that my fish are dead. And that's okay. Seriously, so much love for Allie Brosh.

2. Amy Estes

I sure wish I could rock black
frames that hard. Alas.Source.

This woman right here writes a blog called Coffee & Sunshine. I like coffee. I like sunshine too. It mostly just doesn't like me. It burns. Anyway . . . She is awesome, and if you aren't reading Coffee & Sunshine, you should be. Not only has this fine lady helped me with a Teacher Ready assignment when I was in dire straights, she also consistently writes these amazing, self-reflective, real, and completely relatable posts that never cease to blow my mind. Maybe she is my Spirit Guide, because it seems that just when I need to hear something in particular - that's what she's just published. Like Allie Brosh, Amy is open and honest about her personal struggles and as a reader, that means an awful lot to me. From the time I was coming out of college until fairly recently I found myself drowning in media that was telling me how I should be, and I was not measuring up. No one seemed to struggle like me, and when you feel like you're all alone in your troubles it makes those troubles seem so much worse. Then I had a kid, and that just compounded the problem. For a long time I obsessed over achieving the perfection that I kept finding online. I kept trying and failing. It made me sad. Everyone else had the trappings of the cool life. They threw opulent DIY parties for their children. They didn't seem to have any issues with laundry - hell, they used cloth diapers. How could I compete? How could I even compare? Then, ever so slowly, as I began seeking out bloggers instead of sites, I found people out there who were kind of like me. They were honest. They had trials and tribulations. There were ups and downs. My life started to feel a little more normal. And that is why I love Amy Estes.

3. Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo

Did I mention that Honey Boo-Boo is also for gay rights? "Out noted that her
acceptance of her gay relative "confounded" the sterotype of the "redneck"
working-class, conservative Southern white female." Damn straight. Source.

This is beginning to read like a recap of Wednesday Reflections #13, isn't it? I promise, it's not, but we are going to revisit the topic of Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo. I've decided that I like these people, and I have some really good reasons why. While I question the level of exploitation that may or may not being going on with regard to TLC, I think that it's mostly a good thing that this family is on TV because I think more people can relate to them than are making fun of them. At first I was offended at the notion that a family so very similar to my own was being paraded around on television like some kind of freak show, but I don't think I was giving them enough credit. They're poor, not stupid. I'm sure they're fully well aware that there are people out there laughing at them and saying all sorts of horrible and mean things; they just don't care. I love that. The salt of the earth, the Thompson family are comfortable in their own skins, and that's really admirable. You don't hear anyone agonizing over physical appearance on this show despite the fact that the star is a pageant queen. These women are confident and they defy the cultural standards of beauty. Not only that, but in every bit of the show I've seen they are a supportive, loving, and fuctional family. Can we say the same for some other famous families on television? I think not, with the exception of Caroline's family from The Real Housewives of New Jersey and I'm just saying that because I love her. Like Roseanne before it, Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo gives us a look at what a majority of Americans live like, and also like Roseanne it's making a lot of people who have no concept of this reality very uncomfortable. I love that. Maybe Honey Boo-Boo will inspire a real dialogue wherein we can discuss topics such as generational poverty and the hardships of rural Americans. While I question some of the family's health related choices, I can't be too judgmental as I too have a weight issue as a result of poor dietary choices. I "redneckognize" the problem though. I hope the Thompsons do as well, because I'm very interested in seeing their story play out. I hope it has a happy ending.

4. My Sister

If I were a cow, I wouldn't look that happy about being milked.

Everything I said up there about the Thompsons? I said all that because the mom reminds me a lot of my sister Alicia, who is the most confident, out-spoken, down to earth, comfortable-in-her-own-skin, and happy person I know. We've had our issues in the past, but I think that had a lot to do with me being a teenager. Now I kind of wish that I lived closer to her so That Sprout could spend more time with her. I find myself really missing her, and I need to call her more often. This should be a goal. Not only is Alicia confident and able to laugh at herself (most of the time), she's also one of the people responsible for my very ecclectic tastes in music. You might not be able to guess from this picture, but that woman milking the fake cow is the one who schooled me on The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Kraftwerk, Echo and The Bunnymen, and Elvis Presley. During the turbulent years she really got into country, but I still remember jamming out to "Das Model" in her very awesome 1970-something Camero. I miss the Camero . . . I miss schlepping around Crescent City on foot. I miss red Kool-Aide and Bolongna and Cheese Sandwiches (on white bread!). I miss hanging out at the pet store she used to work at. I miss going to football games and palling around with the EMTs and the Band. Now she works more than she should have to so there's not a lot of time for the fun bonding type things, and that's sad. I really respect her work ethic - it's something that I wish that I had. Her life has not been as easy as mine, yet I think she's probably a lot happier than I have ever been. That's pretty admirable. Even though I don't show it as much as I should, I really do love my sister.

5. M.E. Thomas

Click here to buy the book from Amazon. Source.

I know I've mentioned Sociopath World before. I think it's a really interesting, insightful, informative, and engaging blog. (No, I did not make that alliterative on purpose - it just happened.) Only recently did I learn that ME, the person who writes Sociopath World is a woman. What's more, she's written a book that was released this week. Since this post is in praise of women who are keeping it real, I thought ME would be a good person to round out the list. She has written her blog since 2008 and has garnered quite a following. She attracts all sorts of people looking for information about sociopaths, empaths, narcissists, BPD, and autism spectrum disorders. She is very well read on the psychological research into sociopathy, and while her comments and forum have descended into small minded chaos from time to time, she has maintained a professional caliber blog which I have aspired to emulate here. She's my number one blogger role model - not for content, but for style. I don't know anything about her other than what she's written on the blog, which is both candid and veiled, but I know that she's one of the smartest people I have encountered in my internet travels. I might not love her, but I love reading her blog, and I hope that she her book is very successful. I'll be buying a copy soon, I can tell you that.

Wednesday Reflections #13 - Nonlinear-ness, Nazis, and Other Strangeness

As is often the case when I light behind the keyboard and begin tapping out my Wednesday Reflections, I have found that I can't remember much of anything that has gone on before Monday of this week. Instead of recounting the important things in a linear fashion going forward, we'll start with today and move backward.

It'll be nonlinear, but in the way Memento is,
not in the way all these others are. Source.

As it is only 10 AM as I write this, there's not a whole lot to say about today. The only remarkable thing is that I am overwhelmed with a sense of calm. I find this suspect as it's a state I have not been in for a great many years, but I'm trying to not over think it. It's nice to not find myself panicking about the fact that it's Wednesday which means there's only 3 more days til the weekend and however am I going to get everything done. I have been saying for longer than I can remember that I wanted to get back to "the way I was". It's a state of being that's nothing more than a feeling and utterly impossible adequately describe. All I know is that lately, I feel that I have been "the way I was". It's a really wonderful feeling, and I hope that with the continued use of correct medicine, herbal teas, and "The Secret" (however hokey it may be), that I will find myself more often in this state of being than not. After I finish writing this, I plan to chip away at some of the school work I've neglected. Maybe do some housework. Maybe exercise. I don't know. What I do know is that I don't feel the paralyzing pressure to perform and that's pretty much the best feeling ever.

Yesterday found me in a strange frame of mind. I have been playing catch-up with my Teacher Ready courses for about a week now, and one of my assignments was to write about the film Fight Club. Although I completed that assignment Monday night, I still had a window open with an essay about the film. Before I knew it, I was down an internet rabbit hole about film that led to Paulo Pasolini and then David Cronenberg which led to his film A Dangerous Method, which led to the Wikipedia entries on Freud, Jung, and Sabina Spielrein, which led to more Wikipedia entries on the psychological discoveries they made (namely, Transference , which eventually let to another rabbit hole about Nazis, since Frau Spielrein and her children were murdered in the Holocaust.

Sabina Spielrein Source.

I was at this for like, 4 hours. This might be a sign of my ADD tendencies  but I argue that it's my Faustian hunger to know everything. I would do well to remember that Faust was a tragedy, but I digress. At any rate, I feel that my tumbling through all this information had a more or less positive effect on me as it got me thinking about psychology and morality. I was particularly interested in Spielrein's thesis that:

suggests that truly heroic, original creations can only emerge from the crucible of great conflict, such as the attraction of opposites and the breaking of taboos, and thus the instinct for creation is inextricably tied to a drive to destruction, and that these feelings and ideas are not restricted to sexual expression despite their roots in the biological drive to reproduce. (Wikipedia: A Dangerous Method)

I am left to wonder if my literary matriarch, Anais Nin was hip to Spielrein's work. I have to say, I really like this thesis and I hope to use it some some scholarly writing in the future.

Anais Nin. Source.

Meanwhile, the Nazi research I did left me with all sorts of mixed feelings. Certainly what the Nazis did during their time in power was unequivocally bad. I am left to wonder how there are people walking this earth today - people I have know - people I have loved - who have embraced some of the Nazis more outrageous beliefs regarding race, the right to life, and eugenics. Thankfully, I have severed myself from such persons as I believe above all else that everyone has a right to live and die with dignity. All the more horrifying in relation to the topic of eugenics and the insane lengths to which it prospered is the fact that much of their ideas on the subject and their funding for their efforts came from AMERICA. And yet somehow that was just glossed over in World History 101.

And somehow, everyone was OK with this? Source.

Bearing this in mind, how dare we as a nation, assume the position of moral self-righteous condescension on a global scale? How dare we sit back and act like the bullied child of the earth, "what never done nobody wrong, an' why're you always pickin' on me?" We were the first nation to create and enforce mandatory sterilization laws. As recently as the past decade I have known people who believe that some people simply should not be allowed to live because of their physical or mental infirmities. Ironic, since the person to whom I refer would have been a likely candidate for the gas chamber at the time based on their own physiological short comings. Sieg heil.

Long story short: There was no T&A Tuesday yesterday because I was up to my eyeballs in evil and while I must admit that the SS uniform was very flattering, I cannot justify extolling the virtues of Nazi fashion, as those snappy uniforms are stained with the blood of 6 million men, women, and children. As far as my place in the annals as history as an American, all I can do is continue doing the right thing in spite of my flawed lineage. Free will trumps heredity every time in matters of ethics.

So maybe the UN Peacekeeping Uniforms aren't so snappy,
but you gotta love a room full of peacekeeping Sikhs. Peace is sexy. Source.

Such was the case last night. That Sprout, j^C and I were on our way to get some ice cream after dinner when was came upon a small dog that had just been hit by a car flailing in the road. j^C told me not to stop, but I could see that the creature was still alive. It was a small dog and I was sure that it was someone's pet, so I pulled over and picked it up out of the road. She was still alive, but unable to move. j^C came and sat with her as I attracted the attention of a woman standing her yard. It was not her dog, but the neighbor's, so she went to get them and I went back to sit with the dog. By this time, she was retching and struggling to breathe. I petted her gently and spoke soft words to her. She looked peaceful, although she was retching and struggling to breathe. Finally, her owners hopped over the fence and retrieved her. They thanked me for letting them know and for pulling her out of the road, and while I appreciate their gratitude, I would have done the same thing regardless. It's the right thing to do, and I hope that if Molly Gator or Cody were ever in a similar situation, someone would do the same. I am sure that the little dog passed away as I was petting her  because when her owners picked her up she was limp. I am just glad that she didn't die scared and alone.

Other than being full of strangeness and calm, yesterday was very pretty. It's been unseasonably cool all week. As we were driving home last night, I saw a boy and a girl on a 4-wheeler riding off into the woods. It gave me an idea for a short story. "As they raced through the crisp afternoon, red, orange, and yellow surrounded them, bursts of color exploding like something that explodes." It's a work in progress. Also, "servile penis" and "skin to skin, chest to chest" came to mind. I guess I know what I'll be working on later.

"Bursts of color exploding like dreams deferred" has a nice ring,
don't you think? Source.

Monday was full of Teacher Ready work. (I just remembered). I also woke up with a sore throat which is only just beginning to resolve. I interviewed a first year teacher and tried to not freak out too much over the poverty/race connection that's being made in my course this lesson. I am over a month behind right now, and while this is not good, I'm strangely okay with the situation. I am doing to best I can as the subject matter is hitting me very close to home. I am appalled that poverty is a subject to be taught and that the "strategies" for dealing with it read to me like "how to be a decent member of the human race". It's been very stressful. j^C said that I should tell the school "I grew up poor, may I please be excused?". I think that a lot of the anxiety I was dealing with over the past month was triggered by beginning this lesson. I'm trying to remain detached, but my blue collar liberal "Rain on the Scarecrow" type sensibilities are getting the best of me. On the bright side it's not so much "baby time frolics" as the word "pedagogy" has finally arrived in the course material. And the people say "Amen".

Because I was already waxing philosophical about class, race, poverty, and American Culture, Monday night saw j^C and I watch one episode of Toddlers and Tiaras. I wanted him to see the Honey Boo-Boo people. I also like watching him watch Toddlers and Tiaras. He's like someone watching a car wreck - he doesn't want to look, but he kind of can't help it. We came away from the episode having decided that Honey Boo-Boo's family wasn't awful. They were very supportive of her, and even though she didn't win a great big crown, they were proud and she was proud of herself. I will say this: Her self-confidence is incredible and I hope that in this world of shallow materialism she stays true to herself as she grows. While I would not live my life the way they do, (I HATE EXTREME COUPONING!!!) I love how comfortable they all seem to be with themselves. The mom's generally cheerful attitude reminds me so much of my sister, so while I question some of her nutritional choices (melted butter + ketchup = "sketti", Mountain Dew + Red Bull = "Go-Go Juice", "Go-Go Juice" + "skettie" = childhood diabetes) I think we could be friends. I like her a lot more than the mommies I generally run into, that's for sure and I love the fact that there are blue collar families on television.

What I don't like though, is the exploitative nature of these shows. I realize that TLC has as much learning going on as MTV has music these days but doesn't anyone else find the never ending barrage of lifestyle shows a little opportunistic and mean spirited? It makes me really sad to think that people are watching Honey Boo-Boo and making fun of the way these people live. That's reality for so many people in the South, and while there is something wrong with it, it's not what everyone thinks. The lifestyle is a symptom of the greater problem: the severely skewed socioeconomic class structure as it currently exists in our country and the present culture of entitlement that we have all become sold on. That's probably a topic for another time, but suffice it to say that some engaging conversation with j^C transpired.

Then again, maybe people aren't laughing as much as I fear. Source.

Also, Tyler Durden wanted to blow up the credit offices because Jack bankrupted himself on Ikea furniture and DKNY shoes. Just a thought.

Busted. Source.

Sunday, I cooked enough food to last us the rest of the week.

Saturday, j^C played video games while That Sprout and I played together.

Friday . . . j^C played video games and I tried to go to a working interview at That Sprout's daycare. I thought I was going to have a job soon. Then the director quit and I was told that they aren't hiring anyone right now. While I would have liked to have had the extra scratch, I'm okay with the situation. I liked the old director and I really would not want to walk into a chaotic situation once the new director arrives. I also set up my new computer in the back bedroom. Once I get a new power strip and some speakers, I'll be cookin' with Crisco.

Thursday, I went to therapy. I also got my background check for the job that I am now no longer being considered for . . . but! There was a silver lining! Allie Brosh updated Hyperbole and a Half for the first time since October of 2011. I am so happy that she did. Go click on that link, because it's pretty much my life. Minus the corn. I know how much depression sucks, and I am so glad that she's been working on health and that she's posted in her blog. I hope she continues to feel better and that she knows how much people love her. Allie Brosh is awesome and if you don't think so, go eat a brick.

This is Allie Brosh. I think she's great. So do a lot of other people. Source.

Wow. This sure turned out to be a long post. I had a busy week. On the whole, I feel good. I am not feeling anxious or depressed. I am feeling a fair amount of Saudade but that's just integral that which comprises Uranium J. I have loved many people for many different reasons and sometimes I miss them terribly. They are never coming back, and even if they could they would be zombies things would never be the same. At least I feel that I'm getting back to good, and I guess good is always going to be a little bit strange, a little bit melancholy. Strange and melancholy are far more manageable than what I've been feeling though, so I'll take what I can get and be grateful.

I made this'n m'self.

Gluteus Maximus, Pectoralis Majors - Clean to You, Dirty to the Latins . . .

I would like to begin today's T&A Tuesday with a disclaimer: Although I tried to research it so's I wouldn't make an ass out of myself, I am still not 100% clear on the difference between Hispanics and Latinos. I am pretty sure all of the people featured today are, in fact, Latino - but on the off chance that they are instead Hispanic, please alert me to this fact and I will change the marquee.

Enough of that. Let's get to the T&A. Submitted for your perusal, I bring you:

Or Hispanic? The jury's still out.

So, like most things, I got to the Latin Music Party a little late. Okay, a lot late. I liked Enrique Iglesias just fine ("Bailamos", anybody?), but at the time I could take or leave Ricky Martin and Marc Anthony. I was much more interested in skinny, androgynous white guys who may or may not have subsisted on a steady diet of cocaine, cocaine, and more cocaine. My perception of "sexy" has drastically changed over the past few years though. Where I used to be morally opposed to muscles and strong jaw lines, I am now more or less enamored. I have Vin Diesel to thank for this. Specifically, Vin Diesel in The Fast and the Furious when he picked up Letty while they were making out in the garage. After seeing that scene, I was never the same.

Which brings us to today. It all started with needing some gangster rap empowerment. Soon, I was down the YouTube rabbit hole and wound up watching Pitbull videos. Who is this Pitbull person? Why was I not informed of his Latin Heat? Hmm? That there is some sex in the flesh, people. So, I decided that for today's feature I would explore some beautiful and talented men and women of the Latin persuasion.

1. Pitbull

Wook at da widdle face. Da face! Source.

Apparently people hate this man. I've read that it's because he talks about the same things in all of his songs: money, being "Mr. Worldwide", and giving it to all the ladies. I don't see what the problem is here. It's not like there aren't a million other artists out there who do the exact same thing. Why everybody gotta be hatin' on Pitbull? Just cus he's reppin' the 305? This homie don't play that. I know he's all style and no substance. I'm okay with that. He's pretty to look at, I like the way his voice sounds, and he's got the art of making catchy dance music down to a fine science. So he's not the Shakespeare of hip-hop. That's fine. Neither is 50 Cent and he does catch half the flack that our boy Pitbull does. Haters gonna hate, but ballers gonna ball and that fine specimen up there my friends, is a baller. And since we are all about T&A here today, there's THIS. Specifically at 2:41 to the end. Wow. I need to go take a shower now.

2. Shakira

This here required a video. Why? Because Shakira is at her best when she is in motion. She's an incredible dancer, with a body that I personally would kill for. Shakira has been on my radar since this song came out and my then boyfriend kind of had a thing for her. At that point I was just happy he was over Vitamin C. I could handle his celebrity crushes so long as they weren't the worst form of bubble gum pop music EVER. When Shakira showed up shaking her T&A and blowing his mind, I was happy. While I was not attracted to her, I did like watching her dance and Ex-BF and I could agree that she had some crazy impressive operatic vocal chords to work with. Good things. Unlike Vitamin C, Shakira has remained a musical  and cultural force to be reckoned with. As if she wasn't already awesome enough, then she went and had a baby and became the most smoking hot pregnant lady in recent memory. Demi Moore, eat your heart out.

3. Antonio Banderas

Source.

That photo really should be all you need to know that Mr. Banderas is a fine piece. However, if you remain unconvinced, there's THIS. And THIS. And THIS. And especially THIS. Seriously, why do I need to even convince you? One human being should not possess so much talent, and yet he does. He sings. He dances. He acts. He's done porno and children's movies. He's got an incredible sense of humor. He's got a body to die for. He's a renowned philanthropist. Seriously, just watch Interview with the Vampire, Philidelphia, Desperado, and Once Upon a Time in Mexico. This is all you need to know. Sexiness. You can suck on my neck anytime you want. 

4. Raul Julia

Source.

Raul Julia, known to most of you as Gomez Addams, but he was so much more. I won't get into all of that. If you are interested, then do your damn homework. I have two points, and they are these: 1. Raul Julia, along with John Astin helped to create a realistic example of married life in television and film by playing Gomez Addams. Why? Because we all knew that Gomez and Morticia had sex. Matter of fact, Morticia and Gomeze were the first family on TV to have had an apparent sex life. When Raul Julia played Gomez, he did so with class and amplomb. And you know what? Married couples who like to have sex with one another is kind a sexy in and of itself. Kudos to Raul Julia for taking the role. 2. Raul Julia was a crazy talented actor who died way to young. If Gomez Addams isn't your sexy type speed, then you should really check out The Kiss of the Spider Woman or Frankenstein Unbound. You know what? Just go watch that last one right now. I'll wait.

5. John Leguizamo

Source.

Oh, John Leguizamo . . . how I love you in all that you do. See, John's a special kind of sexy. He's undeniably beautiful, but he's also really good at playing some ugly, ugly people. Spawn? Moulin Rugue? Yeah, he was the midgety type character in both of those. He's also real good at playing the bad guy as evidenced by the above picture from Romeo + Juliet where he played Tybalt, psychotic cousin of Juliet. Being bad never looked so good.  And let's not forget that he makes for a very convincing "little Latin boy in drag".

6. Rita Hayworth

Source.

Rita Hayworth had babies with Orson Welles. She's on here because she's beautiful, she's Latina, and I am super jealous that she got to schtup Orson Welles. So. Jealous.

7. America Ferrera

Source.

I really like America Ferrera, and as the above photos illustrate, if anybody's got rockin' T&A, it's her. You know what though? It took me FOR. EV. ER. to find that photo, and when I did, the site was talking about how fat she was. 'Scuse me? That's fat? I don't think so. That's hot. And need I remind you that the film these still are taken from is called Real Women Have Curves? I realize that America has lost a good deal of weight over the last few years, and that's cool. Maybe it was for her health. She's hot either way. But let's not all get high and mighty about how much better off she is now. I personally loved America in her early career and thought she was beautiful and real and wonderful. Real women do have curves.

8. Dolores Del Rio

Source.

Schtupped Orson Welles. Latina. Hot. Jealous. On list because of that. However, I would like to point out that this woman was a full decade older than Mr. Welles when they had their illicit affair. It's said that she was under his spell, and considering who he was, I believe it. Still, what an incredible beauty she must have been when he could have had ANY girl in Hollywood. Of course, Orson had a type, and she fit the bill.

9. Enrique Iglesias

Source.

Enrique Iglesias, for all intents and purposes, sings the same kind of schlock as Pitbull, yet no one seems to hate his guts. Why? Could it be his devilish good looks? Could it be the fact that he's going to liberate us all through the magical power of dance? Perhaps it's the fact that he's Julio Iglesias' kid and everyone's afraid of the wrath they might invoke if they go prodding that kind of powerhouse. Or maybe it's the fact that he told each and every one of us what he's doing to us tonight. I'mma tell you one thing, Mr. Iglesias: That's a promise I expect you to keep.

10. Salma Hayek

Source.

If you don't think that Salma Hayek is one of the most stunningly beautiful creatures on the face of the earth, then you need to get your eyes checked and re-examine your life. Seriously. This is all.

Wednesday Reflections #12

Where has my week gone? I'm not too sure. Wednesday night we went to trivia. We didn't win, but tonight is the last night of the season, so we could still win for the season. That would be pretty cool, but I can't tell you how happy I will be to finished with this weekly ritual.

I don't really even remember Thursday. I know that I went to therapy. That's it. That's all I've got.

Friday was busy. j^C and I drove to South Carolina in order to deliver That Sprout for a visit with her grandparents. We had a nice dinner with his mom, and then we went to watch Iron Man 3. I'm told that there's some great controversy about The Mandarin. I don't care. I liked the thing about The Mandarin, I really liked the movie, and I LOVE TONY STARK.

On Saturday we watched Pain and Gain and I laughed more or less the whole way through. I know it's a true story, and I'm sorry that people suffered and died, but as a movie I found it incredibly entertaining to watch these idiots do stupid things. Say what you want about Michael Bay, but the man can make a fun movie.

Sunday was another long drive to South Carolina in order to retrieve That Sprout.

Monday . . . was j^C's birthday! I had planned to go big with a cake, a card, some presents, and a tasty meal. That didn't happen. I had a doctor's appointment that morning and then I needed to gather some things at the store for his birthday dinner and by the time I got home I had very little time to get everything else together. We wound up having a tasty meal and some banana pudding. I think I'm going to seriously begin considering "Un-Birthdays", complete with cake, ice cream, cards, presents, decorations, and the whole nine yards. Why? Because things sneak up on me.

At least I didn't freak out about it. I'm really trying to embrace calm in my life. Yesterday was quite trying as I found out that there are some serious issues with my Teacher Ready courses (Money, Mentor, and Time Management). Long story short: I'm behind and getting further and further behind everyday. There's not a lot I can do about it though. All I can do is work on the things I can control and let the rest of it go, which is what I have been doing. I'll tell you this: It feels really good not being stressed out.

Yesterday was also the day that I began my weight loss paper trail that may or may not lead to weight loss surgery. This whole thing is a very hard thing for me. There's a lot of pride tied up in it, but if I try my absolute hardest for the next six months and still see no progress, then I'm ready and willing to throw in the towel and get the lap band. I am going to believe, however, that I can achieve some change in that time.

Can you tell that I've become a little bit more Zen?